


Hatefuck

by birdcages7



Series: Tumblr Prompts/Shorts [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Billy is an asshole, Car Sex, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Semi-Public Sex, Steve is probably depressed as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25282378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdcages7/pseuds/birdcages7
Summary: Steve hated him. Hated the very bones of him. Not just because Hargrove just rolled in from California and upset the hierarchy with nothing more than a cocky walk and a weird accent.No.Because Steve was powerless to him.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Tumblr Prompts/Shorts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785595
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Hatefuck

Steve hated Billy Hargrove.

Hargrove was rough and brash. Smelt like too much Aramis. Had eyes like smoldering wildfires. Burning down the defenses of everyone he chose to look at. Like they should be so lucky to receive his royal attention. Looked at people like meat. You knew you were in the crosshairs if his tongue came out from between dangerous teeth. Teeth that could bite and snarl, unleash pure hell, but also sometimes create a world of promises. If you were lucky enough to hear them. Empty, soulless promises. Every single time.

Steve hated him. Hated the very bones of him. Not just because Hargrove just rolled in from California and upset the hierarchy with nothing more than a cocky walk and a weird accent. 

No. 

Because Steve was _powerless_ to him. 

They were both damaged. Both craving something unspoken amongst teenagers. Something they should have received as children. Found what they were looking for in each other’s mouths. In stolen moments at the quarry. Always in the back of Hargrove’s stupid camaro or just in the dirt of the nearby sparse woodland.

Steve always came out with bruises. Marks that could be hidden under cuffs and collars. It was easier to maintain the illusion that way. Easier for Steve to feel like property.

In those moments, where nothing in the world existed aside from bodies and sweat, pushing and pulling, bites and scratches, Steve hated himself the most. He hated that another boy, another person, had the kind of control over him that Hargrove did. He hated how quick Hargrove had learnt how to kiss him breathless and compliant and dumb. He hated the brainless look Hargrove got on his stupid tanned features when they fucked face to face. Always smug and self righteous. Always moments away from turning bitter. Always moments away denying Steve a release once Hargrove had gotten his own deep within Steve’s body at one end or another. Nothing more than a doll to use.

Steve hated that he liked it. That he loved it. That under all the stupid bullshit, Steve fucking loved _him_. 

Hargrove would never admit anything about what they did. Not that it was ever likely to come up in conversation. In and out of school they barely spoke unless it was insults. Shouts and screams across the parking lot. They talked more with fists and blood than words. It was normal for them both to be sent off court to cool off, only to be found rolling in the gravel outside. A black eye and a bruised jaw. A broken crown and a throne on fire.

You can’t love what you hate.

No words. Unless it was sweet nothings whispered into Steve's ear, as he bounced and panted, clawed at leather seats, body folded down to fit into the stupid low backseats of Hargrove’s precious car. Mutterings about how _tight_ Steve was, how he was _so so good_ , like no one else, took cock like a _goddamn porn star, look at you baby, fuck you’re so good for me ain’t ya? No one’s got a peach like you Harrington. And it’s all mine ain’t it? No one gets to have you like this, do they princess? God they don’t know what they’re missin’._

Steve and his stupid, attention starved soul, ate up every word. Believed every line only said in the sweatbox of the camaro. Let himself fall into a happy state of ignorance and bliss for twenty minutes at a time. Twenty minutes when Hargrove was nice. Where his eyes weren’t cut like steel. Where his tongue was gentle and soft. Where his voice didn’t want to make Steve stab a pencil in his ear. Where he fooled himself into believing that maybe Hargrove actually liked him, just a little.

Twenty minutes where he didn’t hate himself so much for falling in love with someone without a soul.

Alone in his own car, the camaro long gone in a cloud of dust, Steve wanted to die. His body throbbing all over, inside and out, marked and bruised to make sure he couldn’t forget what he’d done once again. His head swimming with lies once again. 

Abandoned once again.

If their eyes ever met at parties it wasn’t for very long. Neither were chasers. Neither explained why they both just happened to be at the quarry at the exact same time almost every night. He would watch Hargrove purposely get off with girls in the corner. Watch thick fingers disappear under a skirt, under panties. Watch his head drop low and watch her poor face dissolve. Could tell the exact moment those fingers pushed knuckle deep. Was sure his own expressions were almost an exact mirror.

It made the hate burn deeper. Would make their next encounter rougher and more violent. Would make the lies sweeter to hear. Would make the bruises take longer to heal.

Would make Steve hate Billy Hargrove even more. But never as much as he loved him. And never as much as he hated himself.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr page.](https://bird-in-a-cage.tumblr.com/)


End file.
